


Haven't You Heard What Becomes of Curious Minds?

by Lesty



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soft Ending, The Boy are Oblivious and That's Okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:19:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesty/pseuds/Lesty
Summary: Steve catches Tony looking through his sketchbook.For the prompt "This isn't what it looks like."





	Haven't You Heard What Becomes of Curious Minds?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago to try and find Steve's voice in my writing. I was going through old fics and found it so... I posted it.
> 
> The titles comes from the Taylor Swift song "[Wonderland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oG9zfPIuwYo)" =)

"This isn't what it looks like."

Steve froze in the doorway, eyeing Tony carefully. He was hunched over one of the tables in his workshop, pressing a battered workbook close to his chest with trembling hands. Steve eyed it warily, realisation settling in his gut.

“Sure looks like something.” He said, careful to keep his voice level; because Tony Stark had been looking through Steve _private_ sketchbook. Tony swallowed loudly – or maybe not, Steve couldn’t really tell if it was loud or if the serum just helped him pick it up over the growing ringing in his ears.

Steve stood there, as if he were glued to the floor. He didn’t know exactly what to make of the situation in front of him. ‘This isn’t what it looks like’, _hell,_ what could it have been? Because it damn well looked like Tony had been going through Steve’s sketchbook.

Without permission.

Steve’s jaw hurt as he stared, incapable of moving. He was mortified, frozen on the spot. He could feel his face burn ugly and fierce, like a hot stove, could _hear_ his teeth grind against each other as he clenched his jaw and – ah, that was why it hurt.

His head was spinning; he simply couldn’t understand. Tony knew Steve’s sketchbook was private, that he didn’t want anyone seeing the contents inside. It was like Steve’s diary, an intimate collection of all his innermost thoughts and feelings. And he had left it here, in Tony’s workshop – Tony’s _sanctuary_ out of trust.

Trust that had been broken.

This wasn’t something Tony was supposed to do, something he was ever supposed to consider. Tony had asked once, if he could look inside and Steve had told him clearly that he wasn’t comfortable, that Tony wasn’t welcome to pry.

Steve felt the hot surge of shame crawl up his spine as he stood there dumbly in the workshop, suddenly feeling very out of place, like he was intruding. He had been spending years of his spare time in Tony’s workshop, had grown something strong and warm and safe with the man.

He no longer felt safe.

“I promise,” Tony said again, “it’s not what it looks like.”  
  
Steve hadn’t realised he was angry until Tony had said it again, Tony’s large eyes boring into Steve like a dear caught in headlights. Steve scoffed humourlessly, his stomach constricting as bile rose up his throat. “Oh it doesn’t?” Steve snapped, “go on, humour me with some sort of elaborate lie, what the hell does this look like then?”

Tony recoiled slightly, drawing into himself further. Under the roar of rage that swam through Steve’s mind, he was almost guilty. He never wanted to hurt Tony, he cared about him, Tony was the most important thing to him in this century.

Right now though it felt like a damn waste.

Worrying his bottom lip, Tony slid Steve’s sketchbook back on the bench. “I- I knocked it over whilst working. I hadn’t meant to see anything.”

Steve rolled his eyes, unconsciously crossing him arms. “The pink around your ears seems to suggest otherwise, Stark.”

Tony flinched, swallowing again as he looked away. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it quickly thinking better of it.

Good.

For once, Tony should be speechless.

Steve looked down at the floor, trying to breathe. It wouldn’t do any good to get into a screaming match, quite frankly Steve didn’t have the energy. His arms were crossed – when did that happen? Steve decided he quite liked it, it made him feel safer, as if there were a barrier protecting him from the evolving shame and anger that had settled around his racing heart.

“I’m sorry Steve,” he heard Tony say but Steve refused to look up. He didn’t want to deal with this. He _knew_ what was in that sketchbook, he _knew_ what Tony would have seen. He couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ deal with the mess that were his emotions right now.

After all, there was a reason Steve was always sketching in the workshop.

Steve sighed, the anger leaching from his body and replaced with wicked shame. He forcibly unfolded his arms, swallowing in a guise to loosen his jaw. Hesitantly, he walked over to pick up his book, noticing Tony flinch away slightly, as if believing Steve would lash out at him. In all honesty Steve probably had the right, but right now he was too embarrassed to care. “What did you see?” He asked, barely surprised in how timid is voice was.

Biting his bottom lip – it seemed he hadn’t stopped, Tony looked up at him in shock. His eyes were warm though as he considered Steve, as if he was just blatantly confused and guilty more than anything, not angry by what he had seen. “Me,” he breathed, “it was all me.”

Steve nodded, not willing himself to speak. Tony hadn’t sounded angry or mocking, and Steve didn’t trust himself to pick out what other emotion Tony could be feeling. It gave him hope – and there was no place in his heart for that.

“In the workshop,” Tony continued, obviously thinking Steve’s nod translated into a prompting, “asleep at my work bench, with the holograms, talking to JARVIS, spinning in my chair when I get a good idea, dancing along to whatever music you let me blast through my speakers, on the sofa with DUM-E trying to tuck me in,” Tony’s voice grew smaller, “my smile, my eyes, my hands.”

Steve swallowed thickly, Tony had seen _a lot,_ but he didn’t sound upset by it. Steve didn’t know what to make of it.

“Th– they’re rather good,” Tony said softly, “you got me right in my element.”

It all felt rather silly now, Steve supposed. The workshop was Tony’s own personal sketchbook and yet, Steve had been welcomed here with open arms. Yet… It did not ease the sting Steve felt.

“You shouldn’t have looked through it.” Steve said, not allowing himself to say anything else. Like; what did Tony think, what could it mean, why Tony liked them. Questions like that only bought answers that made Steve’s head spin, and his growing feelings for Tony couldn’t handle the inevitable rejection like that. The leering, the anger, that was sure to come – because Steve had basically been drawing stalker pictures of his best friend.

“I know.” Tony replied, and he sounded so broken, so lost, as if he too believed this was the end. “I just – when it fell it opened on a random page and it was just so beautiful that I- I couldn’t stop.”

Steve almost did a double take, Tony thought Steve’s drawings were beautiful.

“Not because they’re me,” Tony continued, and for a moment Steve wondered if he had spoken aloud, “and fuck that’s another thing all together, it’s just – you managed to capture so much emotion, so much depth and I’m so… flattered isn’t the right word, awed – that’s better. I’m awed by it because you have so much talent, so much _skill_ , and you – you decided that I was a good enough subject to use that on.”

Steve almost forgot his embarrassment as anger flared inside him again, for a completely different reason. “Good enough?” Steve said, scandalised, “Tony you’re more than good enough, _you’re amazing,_ you’re funny, and kind, and charming, and when you’re deep in your work you run your fingers in your hair and leave grease marks on your forehead which is fucking adorable – why wouldn’t I want to draw you?”

Tony looked like a deer caught in headlight as he stared at Steve, incapable of replying. “I-I don’t…”

Steve stopped abruptly, he might as well have just confessed his feeling out loud with the way he was going. The air grew sweltering hot as Steve stood there, it _was_ getting hotter right – or was that just him?

“I don’t know why.” Tony said, “Because I know _I_ have a lot of feeling but that doesn’t mean-”

Steve’s heart lurched. “What do you mean by feelings?”

Tony looked desolate for a moment before sighing. “Fuck it, I’ve already messed everything up between us anyway.”  
  
“You haven’t-”

“I love you,” Tony said, “for years. I’ve loved you for fucking years and I knew you’d never reciprocate and that was okay because I’ve had your friendship and that’s all I’ve ever needed and I just-”

Steve lifted Tony off of his seat and pulled him in a blinding kiss. Tony was frozen for a moment, limp in Steve’s arms, before responding with the same fervour, latching himself against Steve like he was about to turn to dust. It was messy and hardly romantic, with Steve’s nose pushed awkwardly against Tony’s, their teeth clashing against each other as they tried to gain some headway, and their faces at an uncomfortable angle. Tony pulled away suddenly, shifting the angle before diving in – and yes, that was right. The world fell away as Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, clinging to his back as Tony wound his fingers into Steve’s hair. Someone moaned but for the life of him Steve couldn’t tell who, nor did he really care. For all the times Steve had spent with Tony, talking with him, laughing with him, Steve hadn’t thought there was anything more to learn about Tony’s lips, but as they pressed against his, soft, and warm, and safe in a way words never could be, Steve found himself addicted.

Tony was the first to pull away, heaving for breath as he rested into Steve, their foreheads resting against each other. This close, Steve could feel Tony’s heartbeat, an erratic staccato, like an antelope racing for the sheer sake of it. Steve supposed his heart was acting similar. Tony looked up at Steve, his face flushed and lips bruised and raw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, he didn’t think he had seen anything more beautiful than this. “Thanks for humouring me.” Tony said. His eyes glowed but he looked so heartbroken, as if Steve was going to leave. Tony looked away swallowing, speaking so quietly Steve was sure he wasn’t supposed to have heard. “You’ve always been too good to me.”

God, did he really not know?

“You know for a genius, you’re an idiot.” Steve mused, one of his hands moving to cup Tony’s cheek, forcing him to look at Steve. “I love you too.”

Tony’s face fell slack, his eye’s going almost comically wide. “Really?” He asked, his voice so full of fear it broke Steve heart.

Steve smiled softly, stroking Tony’s cheekbone with his thumb. “For years, Tony. Why do you think I have a sketchbook filled with drawings of you?”

Tony laughed, his face lighting up as he kissed Steve again, “I can’t believe this.”

Steve laughed too. “To think we could’ve done this all so much earlier.”  
  
Tony’s face turned solemn. “I am sorry y’know, for looking through it. I really didn’t mean to.”

“That was a dick move,” Steve agreed, but he said it with no malice, “and a huge violation of my privacy.”  
  
Tony bit his lip with a sigh. “Yeah, it was.”  
  
“But we’ll talk about that later,” Steve said, relishing in the way Tony felt in his arms, it was just so right. _God_ – he’d never thought he would get to have this."Right now, all I want is you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](https://lesty-xx.tumblr.com/) and have an amazing day =D


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